


Magnificent

by theladyscribe



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Gen, Malevolent Statuary, Monsters, POV Second Person, Pittsburgh Penguins, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 02:09:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8383918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyscribe/pseuds/theladyscribe
Summary: The first time you walk past Le Magnifique, you think that it looks like a hockey god. The second time, you think it looks like a monster. The third time, you duck your head and pretend not to see it at all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Pens Monthly October kink prompt, tentacles.

The first time you walk past _Le Magnifique_ , you stare at it with wide eyes. It looks like the kind of statue you'd expect to see in a temple to the hockey gods, if such a thing were to exist. It almost looks _alive_ , and when you finally move past it, you swear Mario Lemieux's head tilts ever so slightly in your direction. You glance back, but the statue is unchanged.

You shake your head at yourself and head into the building. It must have been a trick of the light, just the sun glinting off the glass of CONSOL.

*

The second time, there's a creeping sensation of eyes trying to bore a hole in the back of your head. It's a sunny day, but _Le Magnifique_ is all shadows. There's something malevolent about it, an oppressive force that draws your eye even as you try not to look at it.

From the corner of your eye, you think you see something moving, a tendril of smoke, maybe, or a grasping hand. You force yourself to turn toward it, fighting instinct to run.

When you do, it looks the same as it always has, burnished bronze glinting in the sun.

*

The third time you walk past _Le Magnifique_ , you duck your head and pretend not to see it at all. You don't stop to admire it, you don't look at it sidelong, you certainly don't acknowledge the feather-light sensation of a finger trailing down your back.

You mean to keep walking, but something tugs at your hand, reeling you in. When you try to pull away, you find that you can't, and finally, you turn to look at the statue.

You don't remember Mario Lemieux having so many teeth, nor so many arms.

You scream, but it's already too late.


End file.
